


Ain't No Grave

by Persipnei



Series: Preludes and Nocturnes [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, It's late and I don't know what I am doing, M/M, Vampire Hunter!Sledge, Vampire!Snafu, and they smooch bc they are not cowards., your typical 'you want information? smooch me then' situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persipnei/pseuds/Persipnei
Summary: “No need to be scared, boy. C'mere. It's a cold morning.” Merriell purred, folding his legs a little bit. “Lemme borrow some of your warmth, huh?”He didn't answer and continued to look at him.It was not like Merriell could simply shut up: “I'll be good, I promise.” he didn't care if he sounded like he was pleading or promising. He was already ravenous and he will get his fangs on that neck or die trying. The boy stepped forward and he moved once again, trying to sit down properly: “C'mon, sit on my lap, that's it.”ORLouisiana!Vampire is captured by Alabama!Vampire Hunter. A poorly written cliché.





	Ain't No Grave

**Author's Note:**

> I... like... vampire... aus... and... power... bottom... eugene... vibes...
> 
> But will I ever write something that will allow me to call Snafu, Snafu? Probably not because I am an idiot ;)  
> It's four in the morning. I wrote and posted this right before going to bed, so expect many typos. And bad writing. As usual!! So don't take this too seriously!

**NEW ORLEANS, LATE 1800s**

Merriell opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was the piercing pain on the back of his head. He groaned and tried to check if he was bleeding (yeah, fucking _probably_ ), but not only he was injured. His wrists had been tied together to an old rusty pipe. The copper was not as bad as silver, but it still made his skin itch and he was _dying_ to release himself and scratch the back of his hands raw.

“Fuckin' Hell.” He grumbled under his breath as he began to pull. While this was not the worst situation he faced it was not all that pleasing to be captured in such a dirty way. Merriell might not be an honest man (might had never been, either), but he didn't think it was very classy to attack someone from behind. Even less when they were witnessing one of the most fucking precious things he ever saw in his _life_. Or death. The most precious things his eyes ever saw. _There_. Far more accurate.

Because if he ever drops his guard it's because he wants to borrow some human's warmth. Finesse, charm and patience were words Merriell never learned. He liked to think he was not a complete animal, but he sure liked to chase them a bit. Pretend he was a predator and they were his lovely pray. But this one? Merriell saw him and he couldn't say a fucking word.

He had to be an angel. He just had to be. His lips looked soft and the skin of his face was pale. Even if it was dark, Merriell could see soft red hair crowning him like he was some sort of messenger sent by God, himself. Beautiful and not looking away at any moment; not scared. And his smell? The scent was divine, as well: young and rich. Kept away from the decaying streets. Unotuched. And fuck if that didn't make him want to be his very first. Merriell saw him in the middle of the street and he felt petrified. But at the same time, like time returned back to his body and made his heart beat once again. The boy walked away and Merriell _had_ to follow him. How could he let him escape?

Big fucking mistake.

He had been told, before, that the hunters led a life of celibacy and purity. That it was like a creed that wouldn't allow them to indulge in any sort of hunger (greed, gluttony or lust). Of course, not all of them managed to accomplish that. Or wanted to. But those who did, were the doom of a vampire. You can't resist them and you can't win.

So Merriell followed him to an alley, like a dog without an owner. Like the easiest victim you could find in New Orleans. And then something hit him from behind and there he was. Annoyed because he lost his chance to taste virgin blood and because they would try to burn him alive or who the fuck knows _what_.

He tried to make himself comfortable on the floor and decided to rest his temple against the pipe. His neck was killing him: he assumed he had been in this position since he had been dragged here. Far too many empty houses in New Orleans. He could only hope they were not in the middle of the bayou. Did not smell _or_ sound like it, at least. The only thing he could see from his spot was that white paint on the walls was chipped; the window was broken and the curtain ripped. The soft sunlight of the first hours of the morning peeked inside, weak and orange. Merriell moved even further away from it, just in case.

The door opened and that rich scent hit him once again. He could only close his eyes and whine, turning his head towards the source. It was far too delicious to resist. It made his mouth water and his flesh turn all warm, when it had been cold for a few years now. He only grew more frustrated when his tied hands wouldn't let him move any further. Merriell opened his eyes, his eyelids feeling heavier than usual. And there he stood, so calm, resting against the opposite wall. The soft light caressed his cheeks and Merriell envied the Sun. From the darkest corner of the room, his eyes looked amber and his hair like fire.

He licked his lips and shifted on the floor. Merriell had never been all that great at mastering the whole hypnosis trick. He was far too eager and liked to seduce far too much to get inside someone's mind and force them to like him. He only wanted him to get closer. So he spoke:

“No need to be scared, boy. C'mere. It's a cold morning.” Merriell purred, folding his legs a little bit. “Lemme borrow some of your warmth, huh?”

He didn't answer and continued to look at him.

It was not like Merriell could _simply_ shut up: “I'll be good, I promise.” he didn't care if he sounded like he was pleading or promising. He was already ravenous and he will get his fangs on that neck or die trying. The boy stepped forward and he moved once again, trying to sit down properly: “C'mon, sit on my lap, that's it.”

His boots looked expensive; one foot one each side of his waist. Merriell couldn't help himself and raised his hips a little bit as he began to crouch. Fucking graceful little thing, where the Hell has he been all these years? Locked in a goddamn ancient monastery in Europe, or something like that. He could corrupt him. He could show him what he had been missing.

The boy was light. Like a feather landed on him. “A little lower, cher. Just...” Merriell heard himself babble when the boy sat over his stomach instead of his lap. But he placed his hands over his chest and he couldn't say a word anymore. He leaned forward and brushed his nose against his jaw. He started to smell him and his veins began work once again. Vampires not only fed out of blood; warmth and energy, as well. This one had a youthful spirit, ready to fight and resist. And Merriell wanted some of it. All of it. As much as he could take.

His fangs started to grow, making his jaw hurt and ripping his gums. The boy visibly leaned back and Merriell did as much as he could to swallow a pitiful sound, killing it right on his throat. “I ain't gonna hurt you.” he quickly added. “I promise. I'll heal you. I'll lick you clean. No need to be scared.”

Merriell was about to beg, leaning his forehead heavily against his jaw. He heard silk brushing against skin. And then he could smell him even more. The scent was so thick that he could _taste_ him, even. “ _Fuck_.” he hissed, unable to open his eyes anymore. He let his own lips guide him, pressing a kiss against his chin. Another against his throat. And another one right between his collarbones. A hand rested over the back of his neck, careful enough with his wound, directing him towards the side of his neck.

He will bite him and he will keep him. _Mark his words_.

Merriell opened his mouth and he burned his lips and his tongue. “Fuck!” he quickly pulled away from his neck. The delicate and thin chain was pure silver. Merriell couldn't see the pendant since it was still trapped right under his shirt and his vest. He simply could _tell_ it was a silver cross.

The fucking second time he tricks him. This time Merriell could only blame _himself_.

The same hand that had been so careful a few seconds ago with him now pulled his dirty curls, harming a wound that still needed a couple of seconds to heal properly. Merriell hissed and bared his teeth. “Watch it!”

“Where's Sid.” The boy clearly tried to be calm but there was worry and anger in his voice.

“Huh?” he frowned, confused.

“Where. Is. Sid.” he spoke louder, clearer.

But the question was still as confusing as before. “Don't know any Sid, boy.” Merriell tried to release himself from his grip.

The boy pulled harder. “Last time he was seen, a vampire was chasing him.”

“That could be, literally, anyone, cher.” Merriell grumbled, as his lips began to heal.

“With curly hair.”

“It could, _still_ , be anyone.” he snorted this time. “You are pretty new at this, huh?”

“You were, _still,_ the first one that was willing to follow me around. I had to start somewhere.”

“ _Touché_.” Okay, maybe he acted like an amateur, as well. “Can you release me, now?” And if he was not going to get even a little sip of that blood, he would rather leave before he goes insane.

He pulled his hair one more time and showed him a photograph he got from the pocket of his vest. That boy, Sid, was blond with curly hair and little eyes. He also smiled a lot and he didn't look like someone Merriell would want to bite or play with. _At all_.

“Blonde? Not my type.” he was not decent enough to hide his look of disgust.

“Whose type is he?” he sounded exasperated. Tired. And Merriell couldn't help but want to mess around.

“Let's see...” he hummed a bit, shifting his hips on purpose and earning a blow on the chest from the boy, that while did not hurt, it interrupted him while he spoke. “Manners.” he scolded him with a lazy smirk. The boy was red with anger and Merriell was practically sure he will leave this fucking room with the scar of a cross right on his forehead. “Not Ack-Ack's, too young. Nor Basilone's. Chest too flat. You get me, huh? He likes _women_.”

“You'll end up sooner if you tell me who wants hi—” he began

“What's your name?” Merriell asked.

The boy visibly doubted and frowned as he looked down at him. “...Eugene.”

“What else?”

He frowned, uncomfortable, and lowered the picture. “Sledge.”

“Okay, Eugene Sledge, let's make a deal, huh? You and I.” Sledge fell silent, so Merriell continued. “Give me a kiss and I'll tell you who is after your Sid.”

He looked so mad and so insulted that Merriell was sure that the hair on the back of his head even bristled. He grinned, moving his head back and resting it against the pipe once again.

“I don't make _that kind_ of deals.”

“I ain't askin' for your blood, cher. I'm being _cheap_.”

“You are such a disgraceful thi—”

“ _Thing_? Now that was cruel, Sledge.”

“Leech.” he hissed, letting his frustration out.

Merriell rolled his eyes: “Been called worse, before.” Don't blame him. He was right under the human with the most delicious scent _ever_. If he could get a kiss, he was willing to do as much as possible. So perhaps, if he kept pushing a little bit... “I guess you don't really want to find your brother.” he said, _oh, so carelessly_.

“ _Friend_.” Sledge corrected him right away.

“Whatever. Ain't my business if they feast: boy looks scrawny, they'll starve.”

“If this is a trap, I swear to God, next time I'll put a silver coin right on your tongue and let it _melt_.”

Merriell was absolutely sure he meant it. And maybe that's why he got a little warm once again. Warm and playful: “Stop threatenin' me, boy, you are goin' to make me hard.”

Sledge's nose curled and it was simply _adorable_.

“What? I'm dead, not made of stone.” he bit the corner of his lower lip. Ah, he wanted to have hours, days, years and centuries with him to see all of those little expressions.

“Don't bite me.” Sledge warned him and Merriell shook his head as a silent _oh, me? Never!!_ “This is... Just... This is ridiculous.” Sledge told himself before he leaned in.

He let him press his lips against his and it _showed_ that he never did this before. It was dry and doubtful. Thankfully, he had enough experience to balance this. He tilted his head to the side and parted his lips a little bit, capturing Sledge's lower one and pulling. That made him sigh and open his own mouth. Merriell took his opportunity right away and brushed their tongues together. Sledge's was warm and smooth. Sweet and shy. Merriell felt victorious when he had to let him take a breath. His blood was warm right under his cheeks, making them look pink. Merriell couldn't help himself and kissed him again, because his lips glistened and because he wanted to.

Sledge kissed him back, briefly, before he reminded himself and pushed him away. Merriell continued to smirk, like he was drunk and very pleased, indeed. “You said _one_.” He looked down and started to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I'm very selfish.” he hummed, awfully pleased.

During the seconds of silence that followed, Merriell didn't try to hide how fucking happy he was about this. It forced Sledge to ask, once again: “Where's Sid?”

“Try to find Leckie.” Merriell answered, with his eyes closed. His lips tingled and he doubted it was because of the silver chain.

“Leckie?”

“Robert Leckie. A bit of an asshole. But _very_ charming. Sometimes he just gives them as presents to his wife.”

“Wife?”

“Vera.” he nodded. “Love: it's crazy like that, Sledge.”

“You sure know plenty about it.” he was still cranky about the fact that he enjoyed the kiss. Such a _lovely_ boy.

“I do. I'm already fallin' for y—”

“Where can I find her.” he interrupted him, not even letting him toy with that idea.

Merriell frowned a bit and pursed his lips, thoughtful. “I might need another kiss for that...”

Eugene pulled a flask out of his trousers' pocket. Christ, this boy carried plenty of stuff with him.

“What? You need to drink to kiss me, now?” Merriell considered himself very funny at the moment.

“It's Holy Water. You answer me or I'll make sure you drink until the very last drop.”

“That stuff will burn my guts!” Merriell went from funny to worried quickly.

“ _Exactly_.”

The vampire huffed and pressed his lips. _Damn it_. Clearly he was the only one in that room that could be tricked twice by the same person: “That's _mean_.”

“Spit it out.”

Merriell sighed, heavily. _Bye-bye to his dreamy boy_ : “Philly.”

Sledge patted his cheek, like he did _good_. Merriell wanted to hate it, but instead he leaned against his touch and scared Sledge a little bit by pretending to bite his wrist. He chuckled when the boy stood up, beyond offended. And he only grew more frustrated and annoyed at him as Merriell rubbed his forehead against his stomach when he tried to untie his wrists from the pipe. He tried to push him away with his knee.

Then, he tugged at his wrists and made him stand up. Merriell bowed his head forward and Eugene quickly leaned back, looking away from him. The vampire was holding his hand with both of his since those were still joined by the wrists.

“You are going to come with me.” Sledge said.

“Oh, am I?” Merriell answered, unable to describe the bliss he was currently feeling inside of his body. _Welcome back, dreamy boy, like Hell you are ever getting rid of me, now_.

“ _Yes_. I have to make sure you didn't lie to me.”

“I'm a gambler, cher, not a liar.”

“Very same thing.” Sledge tugged as his wrists, to get him out of the room. Maybe to go to another one where they wouldn't have to worry about the sunlight finding the way inside of it. Sledge's bedroom, for example. That'd be _nice_.

“Aren't you going to untie my hands, though?”

The boy snorted, leaving very clear, that such thing was not happening any time soon.

“Oh, Sledge, you really _are_ my type.” Merriell grinned.

 

**Author's Note:**

> More garbage at persipneiwrites.tumblr.com (well, I never post anything but send me Sledgefu prompts, and heck, I'll write them all).


End file.
